


Strip Poker (With Guns)

by goobzoop, Otava



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Authors don't know what poker is, Erections, Espionage, Gambling, Garter gun, Gus gets some action finally maybe, Hotch (mention), Itallian Lassiter, M/M, So very sorry, Strip Poker, Very bad explanations of poker, Voyeurism, background nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goobzoop/pseuds/goobzoop, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otava/pseuds/Otava
Summary: Shawn goes undercover and ends up playing strip poker with Lasster until only Lassiter’s gun remains.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Strip Poker (With Guns)

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with [Otava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otava/pseuds/Otava)!

“Come on, Gus! I swear it’ll be fine. These are just your run of the mill poker fanatics, I don’t know why you’re so-”

“So nervous? Maybe it’s because we’re walking into a known _Mafia_ hideout, Shawn.” He ducked behind a brick wall and peeped out the side while Shawn sauntered up to a door with a large, greasy looking bouncer in front of it. “ _Shawn!_ ” he whispered. 

Shawn couldn’t hear him. He was too busy schmoozing with Richardo, as he called him. “Yeah, I know Freddie,” he said. “Short guy, hair gel.” Shawn gave him a once over and grinned. “He told me things are going well with the lady friend, huh?”

Ricardo blushed- Shawn thought it was very un-mafia of him, but he was a newlywed so maybe he could cut him some slack. “Just spent two weeks down in Tijuana,” he said, rubbing at the golden ring on his finger. 

Shawn motioned for Gus who shook his head and glared at him. “No!” he whispered.

“Yes!” he hissed back. “Now!” He only had a minute at the most before Mr. Newlywed remembered he was holding a clipboard full of names that Shawn most definitely was _not_ on. 

Shawn and Gus entered into the rundown looking hideout to discover that it was actually much nicer on the inside and looked as if it were designed by some HGTV host or something. There was an enormous chandelier as soon as they walked in and the walls were a nice ecru with sconce molding and elaborate gold trimmings everywhere. 

It kind of looked a little too stereo-typed for Shawn’s liking. 

“Shawn, you are going to get us killed for real this time,” Gus hissed as they continued on like they belonged there. “I can’t believe you talked me into coming here with you. I feel faint. I’m sweating buckets, I have sweat on my nose, Shawn, my nose!”

As they walked down the hall Shawn observed that Gus looked like he belonged there: smartly dressed as he always was while Shawn himself, on the other hand, did not _at all:_ A graphic tee and a plaid shirt really didn’t fit this aesthetic at all. His eyes kept darting towards the walls in search of a coat closet or a janitor area so he could swap out his clothes like some sort of undercover spy. The sooner he found one the better because he already was starting to get looks from the few people who they passed.

“They’re staring.” Gus glared. He crossed his arms over his chest and Shawn knew he was wearing on his patience, but they passed an empty bedroom, and oh! A closet. 

Since confidence was the key to most situations, Shawn stood up and swung the doors open to find a well-stocked array of suits hanging in front of him, ripe for the picking. 

“Oh, Gus! Look! Snakeskin!” He reached out and grabbed a sleeve. 

“Put that down! You are _not_ going to walk around looking like Joe Exotic.” Gus swatted his hand away and shushed his protests. “No buts! Just-” He shoved Shawn to the side and grabbed a plain white dress shirt. “Put this on. Quick.” His eyes darted around the room. “Before we get caught and murdered. Because that’s what the Mafia does, Shawn. They _murder_ people. Especially people who break into the houses and steal their clothes!”

Shawn shrugged; he never cared much for rules. Plus, the shirt fit him very nicely and they really shouldn’t leave expensive and positively dashing clothes lying around if they didn't want people to wear them. 

“Gus, grab me that.” He pointed to a black blazer and shrugged in on. “Oh, and that tie.” 

“Shawn, stripes? You think you can pull this off?” 

“What are you, the fashion police?

“Eh, maybe I am.”

Shawn straightened himself up in the mirror. Not half bad, he thought. For a scruffy barely-employed psychic detective, he cleaned up well and his hair never looked better.

“Let’s go. My psychic senses are tingling- there’s something afoot in the basement.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, what if…” Gus gulped. “If we find things in the basement that we don’t wanna be seeing. I refuse to leave here a changed man. I swear to God if there’s a dead body in there you owe me big time.”

“How big? Like me having to cover the food bills for a month big, or like I owe you my kidney big?”

Gus just stared at him so Shawn decided it was a good time to start heading downstairs; no matter how much Gus was complaining now, he knew that he had no choice but to follow him which, honestly, was a much better alternative to being left alone. The reason he decided to head towards the basement was that was where most of the people were heading towards, and that meant that something good _had_ to be happening there.

There were two men stationed near the stairs that lead underground but they didn’t seem to be checking anyone who came or went. The closer the two of them walked towards the entrance, the more he could see Gus grasping at his queasy stomach, looking like he could hurl any moment, and the more he could feel himself sweating. 

Shawn gave the man on the right a bit of a nod as they passed through and continued on. Downstairs there were triple the amount of people. It looked as if it were some high society, upper class bar. Dressing appropriately was a good call.

Around the room, there were a few card tables, craps, a roulette wheel, and baccarat set out. It looked like Vegas had thrown up in there. Half the people in there were playing while the other half seemed to be preoccupied with others … activities. Shawn could’ve sworn there were at least two couples having full on sex in the corner. Most of the others engaged in some heavy petting and making out at least kept to the sides. It was pretty weird in here, but there was a certain reason why he came all this way.

Besides, Shawn could do weird. 

He turned to his left and saw Gus was no longer at his side and instead being preyed upon by a scantily clad woman near the bar.

It was a good thing he already snagged his wallet. 

“Excuse me, Sir.” Shawn grinned at a dealer behind a table. “I’d like some of those shiny chips. What will...” He pulled a wad of bills from Gus’s Burberry wallet. “Forty-seven dollars get me?” 

The dealer piqued an eyebrow and looked him up and down. Thank God for the suit, he thought- The nacho cheese stain on his tee wouldn’t be doing him and favors right now. 

With a side glance and a hint of reluctance, the dealer slid one single chip across the table. 

“That’s it?” 

“It’s the cheapest one we have.” He shrugged.

Shawn picked it up and ran his thumb over the smooth surface. Looking around the room, he spotted Gus flicking his nose, eyes plastered to the same italian woman as before. Then, to the right, a poker table seating seven angry italians, and to the left… 

To the left, Italian-Lassie? 

“Sir, the money,” said the dealer. 

Shawn snapped his head back and shook it like a cartoon- It couldn’t be. It was, though, and he was looking positively dashing in a two-piece suit and his hair slicked back like a 80’s gangster. He slid over the wad and spun on his heel with the chip in hand. 

One shot, forty measly dollars? Yeah, he could work with that.

Making his way over to the table, he slid in between a pair of bald men in grey striped suits and nearly fell over top of a woman seated nicely in an older man’s lap, up to some very provocative activities. Somehow, they managed to make it look rather classy. 

But he couldn't concentrate on them, not even with her top down to her shoulders, or his pecs bulging out like a greek god, no, not with “Italian” Lassie sitting there, smiling, grinning, pushing back his hair in one fluid motion like he’d been doing it all his life. God, Lassie undercover as a mobster was _hot._

He pressed up against the table and shot one of his killer smiles down towards the dealer. “Deal me in next round,” he said. Everyone turned to look at him, and shit, maybe he shouldn’t have used his “everyone-pay-attention-to-me” voice, but hey, the Mafia had a reputation for being welcoming right? What could possibly go wrong?

It was honestly really funny to see Lassiter’s head snap up as soon as he heard his voice. He stared at him wide-eyed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It would make sense for Lassiter to be here; the Press Gang was the highest priority and profile case in all of Santa Barbra currently. There was a big reward out for the Gang’s leader as well as a few other members, which was exactly why Shawn was infiltrating them. His big plan of the night was to chit-chat with some of the members so he could figure out where the mob boss was hiding. It was ingenious really, but it seemed like the SBPD had the same idea. 

The Mafia should really hire better security though.

It was actually kind heartwarming to know that Lassiter recognised him by voice alone. Shawn gave him a big smile as he was dealt in. His best course of action would be to win to give him more money to work with, and thankfully he was dealt in just as a new game was starting. Starting with a fresh deck would make counting cards pretty easy.

Now, he had to be careful to lose a bit, he’d done this grift a few times before when he was in desperate need of money while traveling across the country. There was a fine line as to how much he should cheat and how much he should give in to make it look like he wasn’t counting cards 

After winning a few hands and getting more wiggle room to make gambles with, he began some casual talking with the people at the table, observing each and every one of them to see who would be the best to give him the information he needed. Lassiter was absolutely beside himself as he boldly talked to “9 fingers Jimmy” and “Big Al” who were natural born killers if he ever saw some. 

Eventually, as he got more bold with his questioning, Lassiter left the table, which either meant that he also figured out where the mob boss was probably hiding, like he already did, or he thought it was too risky to be near him.

After Shawn also found an out in the conversation, purposefully losing a few hundred dollars, and he too left. Well, now that he had the information that he needed, all he had to do was leave. However, that wouldn’t be any fun at all. He infiltrated a secret mob underground gambling ring, God dammit, and better yet found Lassiter doing the same, so if he didn’t have at least a little fun poking at and pestering him, what would be the point of risking it all to come down here? 

Shawn spotted Lassiter and a group of four women and two men talking near one of the empty tables. Now would be a great time to start that poking and pestering.

“Well, hello there, stranger,” he drawled out, coming up between Lassie and one of the women, because he never thought that much about consequences. He slipped one hand around the delicate looking brunette’s waist, and one around the much more wiry, yet surprisingly muscled, waist of the one and only Detective Lassiter. 

Much to his surprise, Lassiter didn’t flinch- he didn’t pry off his hand and bend it backwards, swat it away with choice words, or grab his collar and push him up against a wall. All of which Shawn wouldn’t really mind, if he was honest with himself.. Contact was contact, afterall. 

But the looks that the women were giving him were screaming a different kind of contact, and his decision to stay was already being cemented in his mind as _The Best Decision Ever._

“Hello yourself,” the brunette said breathily. Her lipstick was cherry red. “You’re not looking for a… special game of poker, are ya’?”

Shawn chanced a glance up at Lassiter and saw a hint of disdain hidden behind his easy going smile. It was a warning that said: _Back off, Spencer._

Too bad Shawn never played by the rules. 

“They don't call me the Al Capone of Santa Barbara for nothing.” He winked at her. 

Lassiter stiffened “They do not call you that.”

“Oooh,” the woman across from him grinned. “Play with us?”

Shawn bristled and tightened his grip on Laisse’s waist. “I’d never say no to a beautiful woman.”

“Well, come on then, honey.” She motioned back at the door behind them and the group filed in one after the other, Shawn taking up the rear, before Lassiter spun around and stopped him in his tracks with a palm pressed up firmly against his chest. 

_That’s nice,_ Shawn thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing here?” he barked out in a whisper. “You need to leave. _Now.”_

“I’m not going anywhere, Lassie! The fun is just beginning.” He brought his finger to his temple and winked. “And I’m getting some serious vibrations right now.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes and pushed harder with his palm. “You’re compromising my cover.”

“No, _you’re_ comprising _mine!_ ”

“I am not!”

“Are too!” Shawn pouted.

Lassiter ran a hand over his red, frustrated face. “This is _my_ investigation!” 

“Well, I don’t see your name on it!” 

“Goddamnit, Spencer!” he huffed. 

“Are you boys coming in to play or not?” one of the women called out to them.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Lassiter grunted as the two of them went into the small room.

The room was… certainly a room. It looked like a mix of a bedroom, dungeon, and card room with leather, velvet, and black decor. Must be a bitch to clean, Shawn thought. A door was shut behind the two of them and for the first time, Shawn really started to panic. If something went wrong here the two of them were as good as dead.

Everyone sat down around a low table on some cushions. There were enough for everyone in the room. Now, where was this going, Shawn licked his lips with anticipation. 

“Here are the rules: the person with the worst hand loses an item of clothing. Once you’re naked, you have to leave the room and can collect your clothes which will be deposited all the way on the other side of this building. _Winner_ gets to have some fun with me and my friend here,” the woman purred. “Simple enough?”

Shawn looked at the women, looked at her friend, and then looked at Lassie who looked back at him with a look of terror. Oh God, what had they gotten themselves into? The dealer woman passed out the chips and dealt the cards. Okay, so they were really doing this, then. From the looks of Lassiter playing poker earlier, Shawn wasn’t so sure he would get out of this room with his reputation in hand, but perhaps some of the men here were even worse players. Maybe one of them even had an exhibition fetish that would play to everyone's favor.

“Okay, lets-” Scarlett said, but was cut short when Gus and the woman he was with stumbled in through the half open door. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “Shawn!”

“Uh... hey, buddy.”

“Nope. No. I’m out. Nope, no. No.” Gus grabbed his date’s wrist and dragged her out of the room before slamming the door behind them.

The woman, whose name was Scarlett, passed. Lassiter had the worst hand of that round and took off one of the rings that he was wearing after he folded. Okay. “Italian Lassiter” had a lot of rings on, this was going to be fine, right?

A few rounds continued and Shawn was the last one to take off an item of clothing while the others had at least two each off. It was a good thing he didn’t end up leaving his clothes on under the suit like he originally planned. He had his necklace, double socks on due to the fact that he was wearing his lucky pair and simply wasn't willing to part with them, and the other normal clothing items.

They all got to a point where some of the more big-ticket clothing items, such as jackets were slowly starting to disappear. The man next to Scarlett, Fernando, his name was, tossed down his cards and scowled. 

“Out,” the other woman smirked. She handed his clothing to someone outside the room for the man to go and collect. Shawn got an eyeful of old man penis as the loser scampered out.

Lassiter, across the table from him, tugged at his collar. A flush was forming at his temples and if it wasn’t so alluring, Shawn would have been worried for their cover. As it was, he could only think about the way his skin above his collarbones was likely the same pretty shade of pink. 

“Okay, ante up, everybody,” Scarlett, said. 

Shawn tossed in a couple chips, as did everyone else around the table, and the dealer dealt the cards. He looked around the table: flushed Lassiter, one other man, Scarlett, and two more women. With seven players at the table, and five cards for each, Shawn sat with a six-five of hearts and there were 2-7-8-J on the board, two of them heart cards. He had a flush draw and a straight draw, with nine flush out- 

Oh, _my_. That’s the last time he tries to pay attention to the cards because how could he possibly risk something as immaculate Lassie taking off his suit jacket? And dear lord, he was wearing a fitted dark gray suit-vest underneath. 

Looking that good had to be criminal. He nearly dropped his cards on the table. It was funny because Lassiter had already taken off some interesting items but still kept his main ones on. Leave it to Lassie to screw up sexy poker, he grinned. Shawn purposefully lost the next hand and took off his pants all the while looking Lassiter straight in the eye. 

Most people went for the shirt or jacket, but he wasn’t most people.

He tossed them away and drew his eyes around the table. Scarlett was giving him a rather salacious look and Lassiter- Why was Lassiter looking at him so intently?

He’s never seen that look on his face before. 

The next few hands were easy, breezy, covergirl, and he manipulated the table to his favor. The patrons were easy enough to read, amateurs at best, most in it for the thrill alone. If anyone wanted a serious game to win big, they certainly wouldn’t be in a back room half dressed. 

He got most of them down a few more layers before taking one off himself. As proud as he was of his rockin’ bod, he wanted to stay a wee bit ahead of the competition. Not to mention that every time he won a hand, Lassiter’s face just got redder. 

The most strange thing was happening to Lassiter, who was now in his underwear. Shawn noticed _something_ looked a little too pleased to be playing this game. Was he into this sort of stuff? Is that why they found themselves in this room in the first place? While Shawn didn’t really know what he was getting himself into as he had only come in during the butt end of the conversation, had Lassie known all along?

There was only one way to find out. 

The next hand Shawn lost and took off his underwear, leaving shirt and blazer, minus his necklace, untouched, while his manhood was sitting brazenly in his lap. Lassiter was probably going to arrest him under charges of indecent exposure after this but then again, it was a cop out because he also was playing strip poker in the den of a mafia. 

He flashed a sly grin at Lassiter who only stared back in return. Next hand he played well, took out the man to his right, and well, well, well... Lassiter folded too. Bye-bye neck tie. Soon only four of them remained.

“Those are going to have to come off.” Shawn looked down at Lassiter’s briefs pointedly. He was dying to see what he was hiding undeath, something _big_ if the bulge he was sporting was anything to go by. 

Lassiter flushed red. “I—” 

“Scared?” It was the first time that Shawn directly addressed him the whole game.. Lassiter shuddered before opening his mouth to respond. They were locking eyes and Lassiter licked his lips in anticipation. He did look scared, and a little of something else, his eyes always leading back towards Shawn.

“Rules are rules,” Scarlett said as Lassiter quiverd in front of them. Lassiter stood up to reveal he still had a second gun strapped to his leg. Now _this_ was exciting. What was he going to pick: underwear or gun?

Lassiter, in a strange turn of events, hooked his thumbs below his waistband and _pulled._

Or maybe, Shawn mused, it was completely on brand for him: how obsessed with firearms do you have to be to prefer being butt naked in a room full of strangers than unarmed? 

Shawn glanced at Lassiter briefly to see he was a little past half mast now and then quickly looked away. He was probably going to kill him later. He would never consent to this and no matter what happened after this game, something had changed between them forever. He only hoped it was something good.

Manipulating the next hand, Shawn folded and lifted his shirt over his head, now sitting naked as the day he was born, save for one lonely pineapple print sock

Lassiter was busy clearing his throat, probably out of awkwardness, as the next hand was dealt and Shawn couldn't help but look at the Lassie with all the noise he was making, Thankfully Lassiter kept his eyes mostly on the cards while Shawn peered at his own deck to look at Lassiter flushing. Nakedness was a good look on him. He kind of couldn’t wait to see him lose his garter gun off and walk out of the room. 

When Lassiter left, his back would be turned and Shawn could look as much as he wanted to. 

The other remaining player removed another item of clothing. It was down to the wire now. Shawn didn’t have a good hand this time and was just about to fold when he heard a bit of commotion coming from outside the room, and not the sexy kind of commotion he saw out there earlier.

“FBI! Stand where you are!”

 _Oh, no._ It was a raid. Shawn and Lassiter were butt naked and the FBI was raiding the hideout.

“Shit!” Lassiter jumped to his feet, throwing his cards to the side, a pair of aces, Shawn noted- _nice,_ and he grabbed at the only thing left on his body: his Glock 17. 

Naked, muscles taught, eyes burning with fevered passion, yeah, Shawn liked the look of naked Lassie in head detective mode. If they weren’t about to be taken down by a bunch of Feds, he would’ve liked to get a much better look. 

The door burst open with a swift kick from the other side. “Hotch, in here!” the same vocie barked. “Stand where you are! Lower your weapons, _now!”_

Lassiter looked down at his fully erect member and back up at the agent pointing a .40 caliber Glock at his head. “I said, _lower your weapons!_ ”

He stammered and lowered his gun, bringing it to cover himself up, and thank God for that, because Shawn didn’t think he could handle the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Lassiter in the best and worst possible ways imaginable all within the span of five minutes. 

It’s almost a shame that he doesn’t get to see Lassie shamelessly flaunting his cock anymore, what with his own Glock 17 in front of it, but it’s kind of cute the way the tip pokes out a bit from behind. Lassie is… big. 

He only got a few more seconds of thinking and looking at Lassiter’s dick before he was body slammed to the floor and cuffed by one of the FBI agents. It knocked the wind completely out of him, but when he recovered from the blow he looked up to see how the others in the room were faring and saw that Lassiter too was on the ground,handcuffed about six feet away.

“Well, shit,” Shawn muttered out loud.

It took almost half an hour before they started carting off the mobsters remaining in the room. It was awkward laying naked on the floor for that long while FBI agents were standing guard, but every now and then Shawn and Lassie looked at each other in this strange shared experience Shawn wished that he was really psychic in that moment, trying to send Lassie good vibes. The FBI agents tossed him and the others boxers to put on before they were hauled outside. Thankfully, there were a few local cop cars there to help the FBI out, what with the amount of people that they had to take in for questioning. 

Shawn did his best to look for Gus among the crowd with no luck. A SBPD police officer who Shawn had never seen before took Shawn away to a cop car. Moments later, Lassiter joined him.

“Looks like your little friend sorted everything out for us,” he said. “Guster told them about the undercover operation we were pulling.”

“We?” Shawn grinned.

“In this very rare exception, yes, we. Otherwise the Feds can get you two on a slew of charges.”

Shawn gulped. He never thought that infiltrating the mafia would end quite this badly.

“So... is this the part where we kiss?”


End file.
